


Apologies

by OceanTheSoulRebel



Series: Escaping the Cage [8]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair and his dogs dammit, Gen, Trying to make peace, man they have issues, no one wants to be in this position
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15401400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanTheSoulRebel/pseuds/OceanTheSoulRebel
Summary: Come find me on tumblr atocean-in-my-rebel-soul!Comments and concrit always appreciated! Thank you for reading!





	Apologies

“Hey Ilya, are–are you awake?”

His voice is soft in the night, a low whisper from across the small fire. Ilya and Barkspawn both perk up, ears twitching to catch his words. 

“Do you… do you think I can borrow Barkspawn, even for a little bit?” 

Her brow furrows against her sleep-fogged hearing and she shakes her head to toss away the cobwebs. Borrow the dog…? 

“Sure, Alistair, whatever you need.” 

She yawns and nudges the massive mabari-shaped wall of meat that’s taken up residence along her back. Barkspawn whuffs and settles along her spine, rolling over in disinterest. 

“You might want to come over here, actually,” she says. “He seems to be too comfortable to move.”

Ilya leans up on her elbow to catch Alistair’s incredulous face staring over at her, fumbling to look away when their eyes meet. She snorts and pats the ground beside her. 

“Come on, Ali, don’t be shy. There’s enough of Barkspawn for the two of us.” She gives a slight smile at his incoherent mutterings, his cheeks reddened with a blush. 

He quickly sweeps up his bedding and his sword and makes his way to her side of the fire. Alistair settles on Barkspawn’s other side; his sword is laid out protectively above their heads, alongside Ilya’s staff, both weapons in easy reach. 

Ilya swallows against the frisson of nervousness that shoots down her spine. With Barkspawn at her back, she could face the fire and the other side of camp and feel protected. With Alistair joining her, that precious peace is interrupted.

“Alistair, we’re okay, right?” she whispers, turning to put her back to the fire. Barkspawn whuffs affectionately as she absently strokes her hand over his chest. “Are you still upset with at me about what happened in Redcliffe?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” he admits. Alistair’s hand smooths over Barkspawn’s shoulder, fingers curling into his ruff. “You were pretty mad at me after… all that, the other day.” 

“I’m… I’m not.” Nervous, scared, always cautious, but not mad. Ilya yawns, covering her mouth with her free hand. “I’m not mad at you, just the, you know, everything else.”

Alistair bends to press his temple against the mabari’s skull. “That’s a good way to put it. I think I am, too… just at everything else.” His hand wanders over the broad expanse of Barkspawn’s flank to lay next to her own. “You were right, though. About mages, about the circles. I need to learn more about these kinds of things. Maker knows how much the Chantry doesn’t teach us.” 

She frowns. That wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. “Well, right, yeah,” she fumbles. The words escape her for another moment. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. You didn’t deserve that, you didn’t know, and Eamon’s family or something to you. I should have been a little more understanding.” 

Ilya looks at his face and he’s watching her again, but he doesn’t turn away this time.

“I, uh, I appreciate it,” he says. His fingers find her own and give a light squeeze. “But I know it was hard for you, too.” Alistair lets go of her hand but doesn’t pull away far, close enough to brush together with barely a thought. “I’m sorry about your friend, Ilya. I wish there had been a better option, for you both.”

He gives that lopsided smile, the one he used to deflect the awkward and painful, and somehow it’s even more endearing when tinged with sleeplessness.

“Okay. Okay, touchy-feely time over, sleep time now,” she mutters. “But thank you, Alistair. I appreciate it.” 

Ilya turns back toward the fire, burrowing into her blankets. Across the fire, Zevran curls into himself, his blankets pulled tight around his body. Their eyes meet and he briefly glances behind her, raising his brow at Alistair's nearness. 

She sighs and shuffles in her bedding before closing her eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr at [ocean-in-my-rebel-soul!](https://ocean-in-my-rebel-soul.tumblr.com)  
> 
> 
> Comments and concrit always appreciated! Thank you for reading!


End file.
